Washed the dishes. Hoovered. Swept the weedsout of the driveway.Then, finally, some good news. No, not that I could give back the girlybedclothes, but...rather that Amelia had been chosen for a special Soccercamp, which would run every weekday between 9am and 3pm for the firstthree weeks of the holiday, and which would mean she wouldn't beskulking around the house all the time, mocking me, or trying to pick afight. It was decided that she'd need all new sports-clothes for theoccasion and,. . I just couldn't shut my brain off at all, but by dawn's all too early light my solitary skull session had shuffled around a few more puzzle pieces into a vague sort of order.I don't understand the good old-fashioned British 'fry-up' breakfast. I'd eaten dozens of unsavory and unlikely things for breakfast over the years, especially while undercover in various terrorist camps, but baked beans on toast is just plain disturbing! I asked the assclown that masqueraded as the fry chef at the local. I had been thirty-five when I decided to chuck my corporate job in the big city and move to the island. I guess it was worth it. I was my own boss, that is if you don't count the bankers, lawyers, accountants, bureaucrats, employees and customers who were always telling me how to run the place. And having a nightclub on a resort island did have certain benefits.The 'benefits' showed up between four and five, every weekday afternoon. For the most part they were affluent young housewives who. Married couples now perform their conjugal rights at the altar with friends and relatives there to bear witness, and even join in." It's different I'll grant you, but it's not necessarily right." Marriage is on the increase again, divorce rates are plummeting. Crime rates are lower than they've ever been. UNESCO has recently rated the UK as the third happiest country in the world, behind only Denmark and the Netherlands. I'm sure it's no co-incidence that those two countries have an even longer.